


Still Friends With the Monster

by Bobblychicken



Category: Cars (Movies), Planes (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 14:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobblychicken/pseuds/Bobblychicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot. Post film. Ripslinger suffers an injury when he's barely taken off during a race and guess who's there to see it? This is an excerpt from a bigger story that's currently in the works because I'm incapable of writing things chronologically. Attention Deficit Disorder tends to do that to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Friends With the Monster

It was a perfectly routine take-off at the Dole Derby until Ripslinger felt something snap, and a white hot thread of pain slowly began spreading through his right wing. Before he could quite pinpoint exactly where the pain was originating from, it had turned quite severe, and it was getting harder and harder to move his control surfaces in that wing. Proudly arrogant he may be, but he wasn’t stupid. With great difficulty he turned back and started his descent.

Dusty was down on the ground with Ripslinger’s pit crew and could hear gasps and murmurs from the crowd as they all watched him seem to falter in the air before sloppily turning around and preparing to land. Meanwhile, there were new developments in the sky as Ripslinger turned to face the runway. His right landing gear had failed to respond after only coming a little bit of the way down and began to ache significantly. _Oh great._

He growled through the throbbing pain as he pushed more and more power into it with little results, and the ground was getting closer all the while. _Well this is going to be unpleasant._ Finally it came down the rest of the way when he was about 30 feet from the ground, but it was hurting him awfully. He gingerly touched down, leaning a bit to his left as he landed to try to keep his weight off of it. His pit crew and chief surrounded him in an instant as he rolled to a stop.

Dusty was having a difficult time feigning indifference, as he was never one to be able to stand seeing people suffering or in any kind of pain. Not even Ripslinger. He resisted the urge to tilt up higher so that he could see what was going on better. Through the bustling of his pitties scooting around him, Dusty could just make out two of them seeming to lean against Ripslinger’s right side, as if to brace him up while he spoke to his crew chief.

Then he saw it. There was some kind of fluid, Dusty couldn’t tell from the distance if it was fuel or hydraulic, leaking and dripping off the trailing edge of Ripslinger’s right wing. Every now and then he would flex his aileron and flaps in pain, his eyes closed as his breath hissed through his teeth.

“Where the fuck is that crane at?!” his crew chief was yelling.

It was coming, slowly making its way down the tarmac. Ripslinger’s pitties were already getting into position to grab the straps and get them under him so he could be lifted onto the trailer. They went to work with the straps while the crew chief continued to yell and fret all through getting Ripslinger rigged up and then lifted into the air. He sucked in a breath, grunting as the crane floated him over to the trailer as gently as he could.

“Easy does it. Watch his right side! Careful. Careful!”

As Ripslinger was lowered onto the bed of the trailer, left landing gear put down first, the crane eased up on his right too quickly and ended up jarring it when it dropped down.

“AAH, GOD DAMN IT!”

“Watch it, you oaf!” yelled his crew chief as the crane cringed apologetically.

Dusty hung back a little as he followed the procession over to the medical hangars. He waited outside, struggling with the decision to go in or not. _Because that’s the face he wants to see. I made history by stealing his and now he’s hurt himself after barely taking off and who was here to see it?_ But Dusty couldn’t just stand by and ignore Ripslinger when he was hurting. Dusty’s own pit crew were all people that he was friends with before. With Ned and Zed off at the Red Bulldozer Championships, Ripslinger didn’t have hardly anybody at all. His crew were just people getting paid to do a job, he wasn’t friends with any of them. He couldn’t speak for him, but Dusty knew he would appreciate if he were in his place.

 _Damn it._ As he rolled into the hangar the first thing he noticed was a lot of water and red fluid mingling together on the floor. That answered the question of what was busted. Dusty looked up to see Ripslinger, face contorted as he focused on controlling his breathing, being worked on by the track mechanics. There were two of them; one was fiddling around under Ripslinger’s flaps while the other was waiting behind him, a little water hose at the ready.

“Aim the hose right there, wash some of that away so I can see what’s going on.”

Ripslinger nearly failed to stifle a gasp as water was poured over the spot.

“Ooohh, fuck, that hurts.” He ground out between his teeth. “Hey, farm boy.”

He couldn’t even make it sound like an insult. Heck, it almost sounded friendly. Dusty couldn’t imagine the agony he must be in then. He would probably be begging them to just let him die if it were him. Up until quite recently, there was no one that scared, angered, or frustrated Dusty more, and he continued to feel awkward being around him. Ripslinger had come a long way but some of his more ingrained “habits” still lingered. One had to have their wits about them.

“Hey.” Was all Dusty said, moving just a little bit closer.

Now that he was in there, he didn’t really know what to say or do.

“Great day to bust a hose or two,” Ripslinger remarked, casting a sidelong glance over to his right, wincing. “Beautiful.”

“You’re taking this awfully well.”

“A compliment from the master of taking it? I’m flattered.” and then Ripslinger dipped his nose, his face a mockery of humble humility.

Aaand there it was. Dusty sighed, blowing through his lips at the end of it.

“Whatever.” Dusty’s irritation was starting to peak already. He just pouted, rolling over and turning to sit at Ripslinger’s left side. “I don’t know why you have to do that all the time.”

“Do what?”

“Be such a bastard.” Dusty sighed again and shook his front sadly. “Sometimes you start acting so nice that I can almost like you, but then you turn around and say something incredibly cruel or unnecessarily lewd and mean and I’m reminded of why I hate you so much.”

“I see.” Ripslinger stared straight ahead. “Well how would you prefer me to act? More like those cheerleader friends of yours?"

“No!” Dusty breathed out, getting exasperated. “I didn’t say that. It would just be nice if you’d be a little less… I don’t know.” he shook his front again. “Never mind. I don’t expect you to understand, alright?”

Ripslinger was silent for a while, watching the activities outside the hangar. Finally he sighed, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between them.

“I _am_ trying, you know.” he said quietly.

“I know. And I’m sorry.” Dusty replied. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I don’t really hate you. At least not anymore.”

“That’s gratifying.” The mechanics had finished up replacing the hydraulic lines that had burst, flushing the area again before giving Ripslinger the all clear. “Here. Come on and help me over to the bar, will you? I got a long night ahead of me and I think a few drinks are in order after that debacle.”


End file.
